


Only If For A Night

by stpitbull



Category: Fallout: New Vegas
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-29
Updated: 2012-03-29
Packaged: 2017-11-02 17:12:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,009
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/371403
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stpitbull/pseuds/stpitbull





	Only If For A Night

"Someone civilized and disease-free in this godless place, what is this world coming to?"   
  
Picus turned his head to the sound of the voice he'd know anywhere. "Fox," he said. "Don't you look different all dressed up."   
  
The corner of Vulpes' serpent smile quirked up, as he tipped his hat and took the stool next to him, settling against the bar. "Captain Curtis, wasn't it?" he said, voice cool and even. "What a lovely surprise, meeting you in this  _neck_  of the woods. Tell me, what brings you to Gomorrah?"   
  
Picus sipped at his drink as he watched the graceful movement of Vulpes' long-fingered hand, gesturing to the bartender. "I've got a few days' leave," he said as Vulpes accepted his drink. "My commanding officer insisted."   
  
"Ah, yes, for all of your dedicated work for the NCR. Rumor has it you're quite the credit to your comrades."   
  
"Rumor travels far, I see."   
  
"As far as it needs to," Vulpes said over the rim of his glass. "Might I ask what we are drinking tonight?"   
  
Picus gave an elegant shrug. "Something my boss ordered."   
  
"Ah, yes, is the good colonel around?" Vulpes asked, and Picus caught the quick sweep of his eyes, casting behind him to take in the rest of the room. "It has been so long since I laid eyes on him."   
  
"He didn't stay long. Finds Gomorrah 'distasteful'."   
  
"Ah," Vulpes said, running the tip of his tongue over his lips after taking a drink, "I had assumed you would use this situation to get... closer to him."   
  
"I'm making progress," Picus said. "He looked appropriately wounded when I mentioned finding some company for the evening."   
  
"Heartbreaker," Vulpes said around a slowly spreading smile, and there was a kind of warm glint in his eyes that Picus was wholly unfamiliar with. On Vulpes' face, anyway. He had seen that similar look before, but only on his profligate companions.   
  
Realization struck him and he tugged at the sleeves of his armor. "Should I assume that this isn't your first drink of the night?" he asked cautiously.   
  
Vulpes' smile grew to slow a flash of white teeth. "As a friend of the management," he said easily, "one has to keep up appearances."   
  
Something oddly akin to amusement rose in Picus' chest, and he smothered it with another drink. "I see," he said. "That would explain why you appear to be something close to gregarious tonight."   
  
"Gregarious," Vulpes repeated. "I could  _eat_  that word."   
  
A short chuckle bubbled out of Picus, and he shook his head. "The sharp mind of Mr. Fox, sullied with drink. We all have to play our part," he said without resentment.   
  
"Like there are no pleasures to be had at your posting."   
  
"You are the last man I ever expected to hear speaking of 'pleasures'," Picus said honestly, though the word on the man's tongue was making a strange heat coil in his gut.   
  
Vulpes gave a delicate shrug, fingertips dancing on the rim of his glass. "It is an odd sensation," he said with a sort of labored thoughtfulness. "And it allows me a breadth of perspective. Yes, this place has a certain repugnancy that does a lovely job of stoking the fire within." Vulpes sighed, resting his chin in his hand. "But at least for the night, I can't complain for the company."   
  
Maybe it was the drink, the way it burned in his throat and settled thick in his chest. Maybe it was just the way Vulpes' silky voice was mingling with the muted bawdy music, every word making the pull in his core a little stronger. Or maybe it was the fingertip running along the sensitive skin of his wrist, outlining the delicate bones and thin purple veins.   
  
"You've been watching my hands since I sat down," Vulpes all but purred.

The problem with profligate drink was the haziness of memory, the sweet heady narrative of his night being reduced to flashes of imagery and fleeting bursts of sensation. Picus could remember pushing Vulpes against the door of Mr. Fox's room, fists curled tight in the lapels of his jacket and one leg tucked between his thighs, their bodies blindly rutting against each other in skittering waves of pleasure and need, the taste of Vulpes on his tongue, fingernails scraping up his scalp and knocking his beret to the ground. He remember teeth on his ear, challenges for  _more_  hissed like orders and the gratitude when he obeyed groaned like prayers.   
  
He remembered the clench of legs, long legs roped with sinewy muscle, wrapped around his waist, graceful arms circled tight around his neck. He remembered using his own weight to hold Vulpes up against the door, one hand under his firm ass while the other gripped at his jaw, damp stubble catching in his palm, hot desperate gusts of air as they were breathing against each other's skin, rocking together, the delicious sounds of Vulpes panting and moaning in his ear.   
  
He remembered being on his back and feeling like he might die, lithely muscled body above his own illuminated from behind, a dim halo of red light catching the sheen of sweat and outlining Vulpes as he rode Picus' cock. He remembered how absurdly hot and tight he felt inside, remembered hands around the base of his throat, the thudding of his pulse thrumming against fingertips on his neck, his own hands grasping at bucking hips, throwing his head back into the pillows and wondering if he just might, just might die.   
  
And then waking up, a sharp pounding in his head dragging him unwillingly towards sudden consciousness, curling in on himself and realizing he was alone in bed. And a sudden surge of relief, and the feeling of a collar of bruises sucked into the skin of his neck. The sudden sting of long red marks from where fingernails had raked his back. A small offering of a purgative medicine on the nightstand next to him. The room filled with a heady scent he would never let himself forget.


End file.
